


Sacrifice

by Lise



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Anachronisms All Over the Place, Anal Sex, God/Mortal Sex, Gods, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Stoki Week 2016, Worship, and what he wants is Steve, really this is Alternate Universe - Anachronistic Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a curse on the village, and none of the traditional gods are responding. There's another one that might listen, but he requires an offering.</p>
<p>Steve volunteers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> So the prompt was "Viking AU" for the first day of Stoki Week, and I may have gotten a little excited and carried away? Though I did want to write this kind of thing for...a long time. So maybe that's not that surprising. And it was a lot of fun, and very self indulgent, and somehow managed to expand to over five thousand words with possibility of a sequel (Worship Sex 2: the Sexening? it's a working title).
> 
> NO REGRETS.

It had been a bad year.

The winter clung for far too long, and when the ground thawed there was no rain. The harsh winter brought wolves that claimed calves and milk cows and almost Hilde’s four-year-old. The cattle that survived the wolves gave sour milk or none at all. The priest prayed for intervention from Odin or Thor, but none came, and in May the Jarl’s son fell ill.

The priest cast the omens and pronounced the result: they were cursed.

“I could have told him that,” Bucky murmured. Steve just glanced at him and focused on the Jarl, his face drawn and weary.

“Cursed,” he echoed. “But if Odin and Thor will not answer…”

The priest did an odd little dance and lowered his head. “There are…others,” he said. “We may… _he_ always answers.”

The Jarl paled, and then seemed to notice that Steve and Bucky were watching and turned away, drawing the priest with him. “What do you think that was about?” Bucky asked. “He who?”

Steve shook his head and stifled a cough. “I don’t know.”

* * *

He learned, though. Two days later Nils fell off a roof and snapped his neck. The Jarl called a meeting of the _Þing_ and told them that there was a means of lifting the curse, but it required a sacrifice.

“We can’t spare any livestock,” Peter objected, and Steve felt a chill down his spine.

“No,” Hans said, sitting on a stool as a concession to his bad knee. “Not that kind of sacrifice, is it. You want to call on him. The sly one. The trickster god. You would rely on _his_ help.” Bucky stiffened next to Steve.

“What else can we do?” Steve couldn’t see who spoke - near the back of the crowd, it was hard to see much, at his height. “If we keep on like this we’ll be dead before the end of next winter. At least this way…”

“Do you honestly mean to kill one of our own?”

“No,” said the priest. “No. If this is to be done…the one chosen journeys alone to a cave in the mountains. There they stay, alone, for the length of a night. And then…”

“No one knows,” Hans interrupted. “Because no one has ever returned. No body is left behind, and _none_ come back.”

“But it works,” Nora said, her voice creaking. “Or it did, when it was done before. We never had such a good harvest, or so mild a winter.”

“I am not going to order anyone to go, or say that we must do this,” the Jarl said. “But if any should volunteer themselves willingly…we will all be in their debt.”

Steve’s heart thudded in his stomach, but he knew what he was going to say before he’d even opened his mouth. “I’ll go.” Heads swiveled, staring at him, but Steve kept his chin up, knowing what they saw. Scrawny, weak Steve, his mother dead and him always inches from it. Not much use for much of anything.

But wasn’t that a good reason to go?

“Steve,” Bucky said, his voice sharp. 

“I’ll go,” he repeated again, a little louder, since no one had responded yet. “Just tell me how to get there.”

* * *

“Are you _mad,_ ” Bucky demanded, bursting in on Steve as he was packing a few things: a change of clothes, a bedroll, dried fish. Not much; he didn’t expect to need much.

“No,” Steve said calmly, not turning around.

“You’re acting like it.”

Steve closed his eyes and counted to five before turning. “I’m just doing what makes sense. If I can help-”

“By _dying?_ You probably won’t even make it there. You’ll freeze to death, or just stop breathing.”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Thank you for that. I can make it that far.”

“And then what? Freeze to death there, or get yourself murdered by a god?” Steve clenched his jaw. “Go tell them you’ve changed your mind. We’ll leave, go somewhere south-”

“I’m not going to just leave.”

“So instead you’re going to die.” Bucky’s nostrils flared. Steve took a deep breath until he felt a twinge, then let it out.

“I’m already going to,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how long, but…I can already feel it. In my lungs. I might as well - if I’m going to die I want it to mean something.” Bucky stared at him, swallowed.

“You weren’t going to say anything,” he said. Not a question.

“No,” Steve said with a weak smile. “I wasn’t. Let me do this, Buck. This is home, and everyone’s been good to me. Even though I’m next to useless. I want to give back something. And this…is something I can do.”

Something went out of Bucky. “I should knock you over the head and drag you out of here,” he said.

“I’d just come back,” Steve said. “You ought to know better than to think you can stop me once I’ve made up my mind.”

“I wish I didn’t,” Bucky said. “Let’s go see if Harald will give us free ale and drink until we’re sick.”

* * *

Steve left while Bucky was still snoring and set out. He walked slow but kept a steady pace, relieved that the sky stayed clear even as he moved out of the valley and started climbing. He had to stop several times to catch his breath, but he reached the place the priest had directed him only a little after midday. It was…surprisingly unremarkable, at least from the outside. Just a cave in the mountainside, with a ledge in front of it. He burned the bag of herbs he’d been given and stood watching the smoke drift skyward.

There was no immediate response, so he went into the cave.

It was deeper than he’d thought, and clean and dry. A tall man could stand easily on another’s shoulders through most of it, and at the deepest part he couldn’t see the cave ceiling at all.

There was also something, like a large stone table, intricately carved around the sides. Steve leaned in close, trying to make out what they were of, but his shadow just obscured them and all he could catch was a long string of runes and images of some kind of battle.

Not a table, Steve realized with a bit of a lurch. An altar.

He took a step back, glancing toward the cave mouth, heart fluttering in his throat, but he was still alone. And he had decided to come here. He wasn’t going to regret it. For everyone’s sake…he had to see this through.

Steve set his pack down and chewed on a piece of dried fish as the sun passed overhead and began to fall. The hours dragged by in silence, and Steve started to wonder if this had been a fool’s errand and there would be no answer at all. He would have to return, empty-handed, and know that even in this he had failed.

The shadows grew long and Steve built a fire for himself as the temperature dropped, staying close to it and watching the darkening opening to the cave, waiting. He wondered what this god would look like. Would it even seem human? Would it be monstrous and terrible to look upon? Or - it was a trickster, perhaps it had no form at all. Perhaps he would not even see anything, would have no warning at all before his death came to him, silent.

(And saved everyone else. He would die so they could live.)

Still, his lungs felt tight, his fear only increasing. Maybe that was what it wanted. He rubbed his aching chest, closed his eyes and tried to picture something nice.

“What a curious thing,” Steve heard, and jumped, eyes snapping open. “Someone _was_ calling me. How…unexpected.”

Steve jerked to his feet. Silhouetted with the dusk sky behind him, he couldn’t see much other than a vaguely human shaped figure, tall and slender, standing in the mouth of the cave. He struggled to take a full breath.

“I did,” he said, and his voice, to his relief, stayed steady. He remembered belatedly to drop his eyes, wondering then if he was supposed to kneel. Probably. Steve knelt down, slowly. “My village is cursed. I came to…offer myself in exchange for your help.”

“My help,” the stranger - the god? Steve wondered suddenly if he was. “Hmm.” Steve stayed where he was, head bowed, heart pounding. After a moment, he heard the sound of very quiet footsteps and held very still as he approached. “Came,” he said. “Or were sent?”

Steve swallowed. “I volunteered,” he said.

“And yet you tremble with fear,” the god said. Something thrummed through his voice, briefly, and Steve felt it like a ripple through his body, and nearly gasped.

“Shouldn’t mortals tremble in the presence of gods,” he asked.

“Perhaps.” For a moment, he could almost feel a whisper of breath on his neck, and then the god pulled away. “What did they tell you, sending you here? What did they tell you about me?”

Steve chose his words carefully. Something had shifted in the air around him, and he could feel it prickling on his skin, something - _heavy._ “That you are - clever. A trickster.”

“Wicked,” he murmured. “Untrustworthy.” A soft laugh. “Did they tell you I am going to kill you?”

Steve closed his eyes and tried to brace himself. “I am willing to die if it means they survive.”

“Of course you are,” the god murmured. “You are already dying. What sacrifice is that?” He sounded almost amused, and Steve felt a sudden rush of panic.

“Please,” he said, but before he could think of how he was supposed to convince a god, fingers brushed against his neck and his lungs suddenly expanded. The full breath in almost burned, _did_ burn, and he felt all at once his lungs clear, _fully,_ and he could _breathe._ His head spun and he nearly fell, gasping now for too much air rather than too little.

“There,” the god said, sounding satisfied. “Isn’t that better? Now stand. Turn and face me.”

Steve’s heart galloped. Why do that? Why heal him if just to kill him now? To make a better sacrifice? Still, he’d decided on this course and he wasn’t going to back down now. He pushed himself to his feet and turned.

The god looked like - a man. An exceptionally tall and handsome man, it was true, but not grotesque or terrible as Steve had half expected. His hair was long and dark, skin luminously pale, the clothes he wore unmistakably fine. His eyes glittered somewhere between green and grey. Steve squared his shoulders, trying to be like his father. Brave. A warrior.

“You have fire in you,” the god said, cocking his head to the side. “And so quick to rush to what you believe to be your death.” He laughed, oddly. “How things change. There was a time when your people sought the honor of my attention.”

Steve’s brain caught the phrasing a moment later. _What you believe to be your death._ “Wait,” he said, confused.

“No,” the god said, lips curving very slightly. “I am not going to kill you. Blood and bone - let Thor keep those. I want something…else.”

A shiver ran down Steve’s spine. “Something else,” he echoed.

The god moved too quickly to see, his long fingers surprisingly delicate where they turned Steve’s face upward. “Yes,” he said, eyes glittering strangely. Steve stared at him, frozen, helpless. “I am no god of war and carnage. I am Loki, and I do not need your death, Steve son of Sarah. I need your life.”

Steve’s heart was racing and he couldn’t find his voice. The god lowered his head and raised Steve’s chin and he could feel himself shaking but couldn’t move as Loki’s mouth claimed his.

Steve had been kissed precisely twice before. Once by Camilla on what he was sure was a dare, and once Bucky, a fumbling and clumsy thing more in the spirit of experimentation than anything else. This was not like either.

He could feel Loki’s lips, and the press of his tongue teasing Steve’s mouth open, but at the same time he could feel so much more than that. It was like being drawn into a whirlpool, like Loki was devouring him and at the same time filling him to bursting with something wonderful, incredible, and utterly indescribable. All his nerves came alive at once and Steve heard himself whimper, some jolt like electricity singing through him from head to toes.

And then it was over. Steve reeled, nearly falling, and gaped stupidly at the god - at Loki. His breath caught. He looked - radiant, glowing, nearly ecstatic, and Steve felt a tug in his groin and realized that somewhere in the middle of - that, he’d gotten hard.

_Gods_ had always been abstract, something distant. But this…

The pounding of his heart no longer felt so much like fear.

Loki’s eyes opened and they _glowed._ Steve gasped an inhale, staring, frozen. Loki’s lips curled in a smile. “Ah,” he said, and Steve heard that thrum again, something _powerful_ that shivered down to his bones. “Fire indeed.”

“What…” _What was that,_ Steve wanted to ask, but he just trailed off, gaping. His newly easy breathing seemed to burn.

“You will do quite nicely,” Loki purred, and a new kind of terror blended with exhilaration flooded Steve’s body.

This time when Loki kissed him it was slow, the moments seeming to stretch until their lips met. This time Steve didn’t feel like he was drowning in it but that just gave him more room to feel - everything. The firm warmth of Loki’s mouth on his with something else, something _other_ that made his blood hum. Loki’s hands slid down his sides and gripped his waist, backing him up until Steve’s back hit cold stone.

The altar, he remembered, a shivery thrill running down his spine. One of Loki’s hands rose and threaded in his hair, pulling, bending him back over its edge. His lips pulled away and Steve heard himself gasp, but then flat teeth scraped at his throat and it turned into a whine. Heat flooded his face and he squeezed his eyes closed.

“This is the bargain I make with those who offer themselves to me,” Loki said, his voice low, body pressed close to Steve’s. “For tonight, you are mine alone. When the sun rises, I will answer your request, and grant you a personal boon.” Steve’s mouth was dry, and he was having a hard time focusing. His pulse pounded in his lower belly, almost vibrating with want and something more than just…lust.

“A personal…” he trailed off, opening his eyes to look at Loki again. He was right there, face sharp and pale and unearthly beautiful. Steve swallowed hard. Loki’s smile was a flash of teeth.

“Anything,” he murmured. “Wealth, power, glory, it is yours if you ask for it. As long as you give yourself to me, utterly and completely, for one night.”

“And - and my village?”

“Yes,” Loki said, almost impatient. “They will be safe too.” His fingers slid out of Steve’s hair, moved down to cradle his neck, and Steve could feel the power in that hand that could snap his neck with a thought. He shivered, and Loki smiled. “I only ask as a formality. I can already feel how much you want this. Me.”

Steve could almost taste the power in the air. He went rigid when Loki moved, one long thigh brushing against his groin. “Oh,” he heard himself breathe, and shivered again when Loki laughed.

“Say yes,” Loki said. Steve could feel his breath on his ear and if it was cold Steve felt hot all over. His heart was racing like he was about to have an attack but he could still breathe just fine.

“Yes,” Steve said, before he could think about it. Before he could let himself be afraid, or think too much about the fact that he wasn’t quite thinking about the village or a good harvest or the Jarl’s son. Just about what he _wanted._

And what he wanted was…this.

Loki moved abruptly, lifting Steve with ease and setting him down on the edge of the altar, insinuating himself between Steve’s legs and guiding their mouths back together for a fierce and almost savage kiss. Loki sucked Steve’s lower lip into his mouth and bit down and Steve quivered like leaves in a breeze, a small sound escaping him that turned into something louder as Loki trailed his fingers down the sides of Steve’s neck, leaving a sharp tingling sensation in their wake. He raised his hands without thinking and slid his fingers into Loki’s long, black hair, realizing only when Loki stilled that he might have crossed a line.

He froze, half prepared to die, but then the god made a low sound, almost a rumble in his chest, and dragged Steve’s head back to attack his throat, sucking until Steve cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily, the blooming ache under Loki’s mouth accompanied by welling warmth in his stomach. One of Loki’s hands slid down his back, pulling Steve’s hips forward until he was grinding against him, breath coming in frantic little pants. It was getting hard to keep his eyes open, feeling like he was going to explode. Maybe he would.

Loki’s teeth scraped against his pulse, just under his jaw, and Steve came with a small noise more whimper than cry, spilling in his trousers. He heard Loki laugh on his skin and his face went hot.

“Is that - is that all?” He asked, voice a little wobbly.

“I said I have you until dawn,” Loki murmured. “Do you really think I am done with you already?” He pulled a little away, the palm of his hand rubbing Steve’s softening cock. He could feel himself sliding in his mess and his face got hotter, but Loki smiled, thin and sharp, and slid his hand into Steve’s trousers. Steve shuddered, biting his lip as Loki’s fingers trailed over sensitive skin. He pulled his hand out, fingers coated in white. His eyes met Steve’s, raising them slowly to his mouth and sucking them clean.

Steve jerked, warmth already starting to pool in his stomach again, faster than he would have expected. “Oh,” he said faintly. Loki leaned in.

“I could devour you whole,” he said, smiling, and Steve’s stomach flipped, not entirely unpleasantly, but before he could think of anything to say Loki was kissing him again, tongue pressing into Steve’s mouth, insistent, demanding.

This time when he pulled back, it was entirely. “Strip,” Loki ordered, already at work on his own clothing.

“I’ll freeze,” Steve tried to protest. Loki’s teeth flashed and he gestured. Steve’s small fire, which had been dying slowly, roared up to light the cavern; Steve could feel its warmth even several feet away.

“No,” Loki said. “You will not.” He was already bare to his waist, skin luminously pale in the firelight, almost glowing; skin smooth, utterly hairless. Lean though he was, his muscles were well defined. Steve pulled his eyes away and stood to pull his clothes off, quickly and clumsily, his knees a little shaky. Naked, he felt vulnerable all over again, exposed in more ways than one, shame creeping in. He knew he wasn’t much to look at, and next to a god - a _beautiful_ one…

“Lie down,” Loki commanded, and if Steve cringed at the thought of cold stone under his back he did move, clambering up and lying down on his back, shivering a little even with the warmth of the fire - or starting to shiver, before something _shifted_ and he was lying on fur. Furs, thick and warm and soft under his back.

He sat up, startled, and saw Loki watching him. In the firelight his eyes seemed to glow with something unearthly, and he’d shed the last of his clothes, standing barefoot and proud, sleek and splendid and Steve felt a raw animal _tug_ somewhere above his navel. His eyes trailed down to where Loki’s cock curved up toward his stomach and felt a frisson of mingled terror and desire that only intensified when Loki moved - _prowled -_ toward him.

“Never let it be said that I do not favor what is mine,” Loki said, fingers trailing down Steve’s arm, and that phrasing made Steve’s mouth go dry.

“What do you,” he croaked, and had to start over. “What do you want me to do?”

Loki just smiled, and then climbed onto what had been a stone altar, now draped like a bed. Steve could’ve sworn he saw stars flickering in the roof of the cavern, still invisible despite the light of the fire. He crawled up Steve’s body, stretched out over him and looking down at Steve with a hunger that took his breath away. “You’ve never done this before, have you,” he said. “Taken a lover.”

Steve twitched. “No,” he said, barely audible. Loki’s smile was undeniably pleased.

Steve didn’t catch the way he moved, but somehow he flipped them over and Steve was sprawled on Loki’s chest, lying on top of him, and he could feel (oh) the heat of Loki’s cock on his inner thigh.

Loki’s fingers dragged through his hair. “You asked what I want you to do. I want you to use your mouth. Your hand, on whatever you can’t take.” His eyes gleamed. “And when I come, I want you to swallow.”

Steve made a ragged sound, a sort of half gasp, his own cock twitching. He knew about - such things, of course, it wasn’t something that was _hidden,_ but he hadn’t…had never thought of…

Loki’s hand in his hair nudged him downward, and Steve scrambled to obey. Struck by a thought, remembering how Loki had reacted to having his hair touched, Steve raised his hands slowly, tentatively, to run them down his sides. 

And felt Loki shiver. Glancing up, he saw that his eyes were half closed. The rush Steve felt, the _glee_ at knowing he could do that, could pull that reaction from a god, was almost overpowering, and he did it again, stroking along the lines of his ribs, lowering his mouth to press his lips down the center line of Loki’s body. Experimentally, he flicked his tongue against the skin and felt Loki’s muscles tense, his body twitching with a very quiet _ah._

Heart pounding, Steve inched lower, lifting his head and moving his hand slowly to wrap around the length of Loki’s cock.

It felt…not all that unlike his own, if somewhat longer. Skin silky and hot, flushed red, and for a moment Steve felt a flutter of panic but he pushed it down and gave the tip an experimental lick. The taste was - strange, mostly salt, but the shudder that ran through Loki’s body, the low moan and the way his fingers tightened in Steve’s hair…heat pulsed in Steve’s stomach and he felt his cock stirring even as he guided Loki’s slowly between his lips, trying to be careful of his teeth. He heard Loki exhale another moan, his fingers sliding from Steve’s hair to grip the furs underneath, and Steve took that as a sign that he was doing something right.

He slid his mouth down further, a little at a time, trying to move his tongue, and by the way Loki’s hips twitched and the increasingly less quiet sounds he was making, it was working. He bobbed his head down and stopped, the blunt head of Loki’s cock nudging at the back of his throat, and for a moment he wavered on the edge of seeing if he _could_ take all of it, _devour him whole_ like Loki had said, but in the end he just wrapped his hand around the rest and kept going, letting the sounds Loki made guide him. A suck earned him a sharp inhale and an arch of Loki’s back; a muffled moan got him a cry and _yes, good,_ that made a thrill of pleasure course down Steve’s spine to his half hard cock. He bobbed his head faster, messily, split slicking his palm where he squeezed and stroked and looked up at Loki, pale and perfect, face flushed and transformed in ecstasy, and thought half wildly _I could worship like this._

Steve felt Loki’s body coil tight and took Loki’s cock in his mouth as far as he could, sucking like he could pull his god’s orgasm from him. When it came, Loki cried out and the fire flared up. Steve tasted bitter, salty seed on the back of his tongue and swallowed frantically, his own hips rutting against nothing.

He would have waited, but Loki pulled him back up and rolled Steve onto his back, tongue licking into Steve’s mouth, naked body pressed to him as his hand slid down and gripped Steve’s erection.

“You taste like me,” Loki said when he pulled back, and Steve let out a whimper that was swallowed in another kiss. Loki began stroking him, deft and sure, his fingers finding all the right places. Steve was fully hard and squirming within a few strokes, panting and crying out not long after, but Loki kept him dancing on the edge, need burning him up.

_Devour you whole._ Was he even going to survive until dawn?

“Say my name,” Loki whispered in his ear.

“Loki,” Steve gasped, voice breaking, and spilled over Loki’s hand. Dazed, Steve watched him lick it clean.

“Waste not,” he murmured, and Steve shivered at the predatory note in his voice.

* * *

Loki was generous, sort of. He let Steve recover, a little, before taking him again; gave him water when he was limp and panting and useless, even allowed him a few bites of his jerky before pouncing again. It seemed like his hunger was insatiable, like he couldn’t get enough. He had Steve use his mouth again, his hands, between Steve’s thighs. And he gave, too: stroked Steve to completion, and once (just once) slid down between Steve’s legs and swallowed him to the root, wet velvet heat that had Steve gasping like he was having an attack.

He was grateful that Loki had fixed his lungs first, or he never could have made it. Even as it was, even though he knew that Loki had to be giving him some kind of supernatural endurance, he could feel himself flagging. Desire still burned hot in his stomach, but his thoughts felt fuzzy and he couldn’t think in words anymore, only in sensations and smells: sweat, sex, _Loki._ That last swallowing everything, his whole world narrowed to a single point.

“Ah, Steve,” Loki said, pulling him up by his hair and nuzzling his neck. “You are almost there. Just once more.”

Steve’s head lolled limply back and he summoned enough thought to say, “m’yours.”

“You are.” Loki nudged him forward onto all fours, manhandling him like he was a doll. He could do that, Steve thought, even if Steve was twice as big as he was.

Loki ran his hand down Steve’s spine and slid his fingers between his buttocks, one pressing against his asshole. Steve went rigid, realizing what they hadn’t done. What Loki hadn’t done to him. He remembered, dimly, feeling Loki’s fingers inside him at one point, but he had hardly been able to think, busy rubbing against Loki’s thigh. But if Loki meant to fuck him-

_Shame,_ whispered years of ingrained teaching, of jests and insults. But the drop of his stomach and the thud of his heart weren’t from shame. And this was-

This was a god.

And damn him, but he wanted it.

“Do it,” he whispered. “I,” and Steve broke off as Loki’s finger slid into him: easily, so he had remembered that right, but it still felt strange, new fullness, pressure. The second even more so, and when Loki spread them inside he let out a strangled, punched sound. Fear bubbled up, suddenly imagining Loki taking him roughly, making him bleed.

“Shh,” Loki murmured, stroking Steve’s spine with the delicate, feather-light touch that set his skin humming. “I told you, did I not? I take care of what’s mine. And you are mine, for a little while yet.”

His hand wrapped around Steve’s cock as he worked his third finger in, stroking so pleasure blended with the stretch and he was panting and full and straining in Loki’s hand.

Loki removed his fingers and Steve exhaled sharply, but then Loki was lifting him, moving him to straddle Loki’s legs, face to face. Loki pulled Steve against him and he felt Loki’s erection pushing at his ass, gasping, holding his breath as Loki lowered Steve onto his cock.

The sound he made at the first thrust, pushing the blunt head of Loki’s cock into him, couldn’t decide if it was a scream or a moan. His legs quivered and he threw his head back as Loki pressed into him, slow and careful but utterly implacable, claiming him, and Steve couldn’t help but feel that he was going to be marked by this forever.

Some part of him thrilled at the thought.

Steve did moan, when he was fully seated, could feel Loki deep inside, his body stretching to fit him. His body clenched reflexively and he felt Loki inhale sharply, his hips jerking like he wanted to thrust deeper, but then he didn’t move again.

Steve felt limp, dazed, his whole body quivering where he was slumped against Loki’s chest. He swallowed hard several times, Loki’s breathing harsh in his ears. “Is that,” he gasped, sucked in a breath, and tried again. “Is that all you’ve got?”

For a moment, silence, and Steve wondered if he’d miscalculated. Then he felt more than heard a low vibration of a laugh.

“No,” Loki said, and bit Steve’s neck before both his hands reached down, grabbing Steve’s buttocks and lifting him just a little. The friction drag inside him took Steve’s breath away and he grabbed onto Loki’s shoulders just in time as Loki began to move.

He was ruthless. Merciless. But not in the way Steve had feared - every thrust was smooth and after the first few he didn’t even feel the burn next to the wave that washed through him every time Loki drove into his body. His hips pumped in long, snapping thrusts that seemed to hit something desperately good deep inside him every time, and Steve could feel himself jerk with every one, his cock iron hard, rubbing against Loki’s stomach. It was _too good_ and _not enough,_ and if Loki’s breathing was loud and rough he seemed able to just keep _going,_ and Steve wasn’t going to be able to keep up. His head was spinning, every jolt of pleasure almost felt painful, and there were spots in front of his eyes.

“Look at me,” Loki said, and Steve opened his eyes without thinking, drew back to where he could see Loki’s face. Flushed, his eyes almost looking black. He cupped Steve’s face in one hand and smiled, but this time it didn’t look savage. Looked almost fond.

Then the expression broke, transforming into a look of almost agonized bliss as Loki’s pace finally stuttered, his last few thrusts pressing deep into Steve’s core. Maybe it was the look on Loki’s face, or the relief, or some sort of magic, but Steve cried out as his orgasm hit, but his cock could only twitch. Drenched in sweat and come, he had nothing left to give.

Steve barely registered Loki moving him except for a slight gasp at the sense of loss that came with his pulling out. He feflt himself deposited on slightly sticky fur, another thrown atop him. Forcing his eyes open, Steve saw Loki silhouetted against the very palest hint of daylight from the cavern’s mouth.

“It’s dawn?” he said, dazed.

“So it is.” Loki’s voice was quiet, strange. “I will lift the curse on your village. And the boon is yours. Wealth, power, love, glory. Whatever you like.”

The others never came back, Steve thought. They must have chosen to leave. He thought he could understand why. Steve felt limp, wrung dry, exhausted, true, but something else as well. Transformed.

He could understand why someone would feel like they couldn’t return, after that.

Steve looked at Loki, but his face was hard to read. His whole body was still buzzing, like an echo of the air that Loki gave off. The idea of losing that completely…

“Where do you go?” He asked. His voice sounded blurry and indistinct, half asleep, and his head felt full of clouds. “When you’re not…you don’t live here.”

“No,” Loki said after a moment. “I do not.”

“Are you in Asgard?”

Something odd flashed across Loki’s face, half feral. “Sometimes.”

Steve’s eyelids were dragging. “The boon,” he said. Loki raised his eyebrows, and Steve fought to find the words. “I want to be able to - protect people. M’tired of being useless. Helpless.”

Loki looked at him for a long moment. One corner of his lips curled up. “You want to be a hero?” He said.

“No,” Steve said. “I just want to be able to protect people.”

Loki gave him a long, quizzical stare. “Then you will,” he said. He paced back over to Steve, still splendidly naked, and bent down to kiss his forehead. Steve felt a rush of warmth go through him, like something had just passed between them. His eyelids were so heavy. “I will give you a body to match your fire,” he heard Loki say, before he was gone. “And let us see what great deeds you do with it.”


End file.
